Whispers on the Wire

The world beneath the dense canopy of the state forest was a place of deep, green silence. The narrow gravel road was a tunnel through a landscape that felt ancient and untouched by the plague that had devoured the cities. For two days, they traveled through this new wilderness, the sputtering protest of the van's dying engine the only man-made sound for miles. They were utterly alone, a feeling that was both a comfort and a terror.

Their supplies were critically low. The MREs were gone. They were living on what little Lena could forage—bitter greens, edible roots, and a handful of berries that left a sharp, metallic taste in their mouths. The children were lethargic, their faces pale from hunger. The fragile peace of their isolation was being eroded by the slow, grinding pressure of starvation.